


It's Been A Long, Long Time

by BloodRedRidingHood



Category: Black Widow (Comics), Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (2012), Winter Soldier (Comics)
Genre: Comic Canon, Department X, Dubious Consent, Feelings, First Time, Gen, Hints of Non-con, Miscarriage, Red Room, Train Sex, movie canon, not quite what you think, red room serum
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-04-28
Updated: 2014-04-28
Packaged: 2018-01-21 03:57:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,091
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1536659
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BloodRedRidingHood/pseuds/BloodRedRidingHood
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Don’t let anyone in. Keep your walls up. Distance yourself.</p>
            </blockquote>





	It's Been A Long, Long Time

**Author's Note:**

> This whole chapter takes place in Russia, therefore, everyone speaks Russian. Some translations are at the end of the chapter.

The first time she’d had sex, it hadn’t been pleasant. The man had been too rough, forcing her onto her stomach and shoving himself into her from behind while he pushed her face into the pillow, muffling her screams. After he had finished, emptying himself on her tear-stained face, she broke his neck without blinking an eye, then sat in a scalding hot bath for nine hours. She spent the next two weeks curled up in her room at the Department, refusing to talk to anyone.

The next seven times went smoothly. She was in and out in a matter of hours. She gave her reports, worked in the training room, and waited for her next mission.

When she was given the serum, she was told that the effects on her body would be severe. They told her that her periods would be irregular, if they happened at all. She would likely be infertile. She took that as a blessing. In her line of work, getting pregnant would be the worst thing to happen.

When the Winter Soldier came to the Red Room, all of the recruits were in awe of him. He was severe, he was frightening. He spoke to nobody, worked alone, and it wasn’t long before the recruits were crowding the training room to watch him work.

He always wore long sleeves, and a glove on his left hand. His dark hair was combed over to the side, and his blue eyes were as cold and focused as his codename suggested. She worked in the opposite corner of the training room, always keeping him in the corner of her eye. She worked hard, mirroring his moves until she could do them with an effortless grace.

It wasn’t long before he started watching her. She was aware of his gaze, of course. She had been on the receiving end of every male’s lustful stares for years now, but his was different. It wasn’t sexual; it was curiosity, or something like it. He watched her as she moved around the training room, grappling with other recruits, spinning, kicking, and using her ballet and martial arts training in combination to bring down her opponents. (There were a few times she had put people in the infirmary; she wanted the Soldier to see what she could do.) Eventually, the recruits got tired of losing to her, and she was left alone with him. They remained in their corners, never talking, avoiding eye contact but still watching each other. 

She found herself missing him when he was sent on an assignment. He would be gone for months at a time, and when he returned, he had an almost frightening amount of aggression to get out in the training room. She would watch him destroy heavy bags out of the corner of her eye, one after another. He looked like he needed someone to fight back, so one day, she caught his eye and walked to the middle of the training room.

He was tough, she knew that already, but it physically hurt when she hit him. Her hands and feet quickly grew sore, but that didn’t stop her from trying to beat him; her training and the serum had programmed her to push beyond that. They sparred for an hour, resulting in bruises and bloody noses and a black eye. When he finally pinned her to the ground, her wrists held above her head and him straddling her waist, squeezing his thighs against her sides to keep her from wiggling free, she smirked. He nodded curtly at her and got up, quickly turning his back on her and disappearing out the door.

They began sparring together, a sort of unspoken agreement. She never won. Not only was he bigger and stronger, he was quicker than she was. But she pushed hard. He seemed to notice, because before long, their sparring evolved into lessons. He never spoke to her, and she never tried to initiate a conversation.

He taught her how to move, how to avoid getting hit by someone who was not only bigger than she was, but stronger in different areas. He taught her how to use a knife, watching stoically as she tore apart training dummy after training dummy. He was pleasantly surprised at how quickly she learned, especially when he taught her how to use a sniper rifle, which was his weapon of choice.

Her missions came in quicker succession. Her body had finally adjusted to the serum, after almost a year, and she could predict her menstruation down to the hour. Most of the men she was sent to kill didn’t seem to mind if she were bleeding, however that was not always the case. One slapped her so hard that he broke her nose; she took a perverse pleasure in killing him. She returned to the Red Room covered in his blood, a dark smile on her face. The Soldier gave her a knowing nod when she passed him in the halls.

She was sent out again a week later. Since her face was still bruised from the broken nose, the Soldier was sent with her to play the part of an abusive lover. The target had a hero complex, she was told, but he was cautious because he was also a known arms dealer for the American spies in Moscow. They were told not to hold back in getting his attention, even if it meant that she spent some time in the infirmary afterward.

When they found their target in a seedy bar, she reached up and pulled the Soldier’s face to hers, capturing him in a kiss. His lips were surprisingly soft, parting immediately for her tongue. She kept her eye on the arms dealer over the Soldier’s shoulder and winking at him, while at the same time pushing a straight pin into the Soldier’s shoulder. He broke the kiss, shoving her away hard enough that she knocked over a table as she fell to the ground.

It was short work from there. The arms dealer was dead and strung up outside for the Americans within twenty minutes. 

They spent the rest of their night traveling back to the Red Room. The train car was empty except for them, yet they sat together. She turned so that her back was resting against the side of the train car and watched the Soldier. He was sitting straight up with his eyes closed and fists balled up on his thighs. His hair had grown out a bit since he had first come to the Red Room. It hung around his brows in loose brown curls. She reached out hesitantly to brush one of them away, and wasn’t at all surprised when his hand grabbed her wrist just millimeters away from his face.

She bit her lip and tried to pull away, but he didn’t let her go. He turned his head, catching her eye, and gently tugged her closer. She slid across the seat toward him, getting up on her knees so that she was kneeling beside him. A look crossed his face, one she had seen many times but never from him. Lust colored his eyes, and his hand snaked from her wrist up to the back of her neck.

This kiss was hard, his hands tangling in her hair as she climbed onto his lap. They had gone from arctic to blazing hot in moments, but she didn’t care. She hadn’t realized how long she had been holding back her attraction until now, and they only had until the train stopped in the village near the Red Room to act on it.

She moved his hand down her back, bringing his fingers to the hem of her dress, which had already bunched up around her hips. Her hands found his fly and quickly undid it. Before she could pull his already hard cock out, he stopped her.

“Are you sure?” 

She got chills; these were the first words he had ever directly spoken to her. She had, of course, heard him speak, but it was mostly to their superiors and the other recruits. Whenever it came to communication with her, he mostly relied on body language. She appreciated that he was taking the time to ask her this. 

“Yes.”

He stood up, holding her with one arm while he pushed his pants down to his knees. Sitting down on the edge of the seat, he positioned her on his lap, letting her wrap her legs around his waist. Using a finger, she pulled her panties to the side as he lowered her down onto his cock. She let her head fall back as he lifted her up and down, the friction driving her almost crazy. She had never felt this before, and it was amazing. He pushed himself deeper into her, gripping her hips and capturing her lips in a hard kiss. She moaned into his mouth, gripping the fabric at the collar of his shirt. Three more thrusts from him, and everything exploded in color; she had to bite her lip to keep from screaming as pleasure wracked her body. Two more thrusts and he groaned loudly, gripping her ass hard enough to bruise as he buried his face in her neck.

“Oh, Pauchok,” he whispered against her throat. 

They stayed like that until lampposts started appearing out of the windows of the train car, letting their breathing slow as they trailed fingers through hair and down cheeks and across lips. By the time the train stopped at the station, they had separated, going back to their icy demeanors of student and teacher.

They were picked up by a handler at the station and taken back to the Red Room. As she went to her dorm room, she caught the Soldier’s eye one last time and gave him a small smile, which he acknowledged with a nod. 

She spent the next month undercover as maid in the American Embassy. She enjoyed this, as it didn’t involve killing or sex. Her mission was to gather information about any nuclear plans that the Americans might have. It was a welcome break from her past missions, even if it meant she had to risk death for spying. She knew she was good enough not to get caught. She spent most of the time in the offices, rifling through papers in the dark, basking in the silence of where she was.

She was disappointed when she saw her handler in the foyer, pretending to be lost. She hadn’t been able to get much, but she knew she hadn’t failed. Men were notorious for dropping their guard around her. When she reported in to her superiors in the Red Room, she got minimal praise, which was more than the other recruits received.

They started calling her Vdova. The Widow. Her full code name was Chernaya Vdova, but it was rare for anyone to say that. She thought constantly about what the Soldier had called her that night on the train, Pauchok, and wondered if he had known.

She hadn’t seen him since that night. Between her mission, and his months-long absences, she wasn’t sure if he would be back anytime soon, or when the last time he had been there was. She spent most of her free time in the training room, working through dummy after dummy with the knife he had given her. 

It made her nervous, the way she was beginning to feel about this man. The Winter Soldier. The man who would disappear and reappear as if nothing had changed. He had only ever said a handful of words to her, but he had taught her so much. She knew that it was dangerous. She had been told that being cold and distant was what made a good spy, was what would help win the Motherland the war. That she was necessary only as a spy and assassin. And the only way she would be a good spy and assassin is if she were distant. 

Don’t let anyone in. Keep your walls up. Distance yourself. 

She missed him.

She shouted in frustration, plunging the knife hilt-deep into the neck of the dummy, then kicked the whole thing over. She was in trouble. The next time she saw him, she was going to tell him to stay away. 

But it had been over two months since the train. No one had mentioned him since she had been back from the Embassy, which meant that he’d been gone long enough for things to return to normal. That only happened when he was gone for months at a time. She sat down on the floor, buzzing with frustration. 

And something else. 

She often thought about how he made her feel. She had never even come close to an orgasm with anyone before; all of the men she’d had to seduce were in it solely for themselves. They didn’t care about her at all, at least until she killed them. She hadn’t even been able to give herself those feelings, as often as she tried. Her own fingers were not even enough to drive her over the edge like he had.

She wasn’t sure how long she was on the floor, but it was long enough for her to fall asleep gripping her knife. She didn’t want to risk missing him by going back to her dormitory. She needed to see him.

She came to when a hand gipped her shoulder tightly. She swung out with the knife, missing his stomach by inches as he had jumped back. He pulled the knife away gently and pulled her into a seating position. She blinked at him, feebly attempting to push him away, but was found herself smiling as he pulled her closer to him.

“Let’s get you back to your room, Pauchok,” he whispered into her hair as he helped her stand. He looped his right arm around her waist as he led her down the darkened halls. When they reached her door, she opened it and turned to look at him.

“Come inside,” she said. She reached for his hand, but he shook his head. Instead, he trailed his fingers down the side of her face. When his fingertips reached her mouth, she pursed her lips and kissed them. “Are you sure?”

He smiled at her, leaning in pressing a kiss to her lips. “Good night, Vdova.” He watched her go into her room, and as she closed the door. She collapsed into her bed and passed out with a smile.

She was awoken three hours later by a sharp pain low in her belly. She groaned and sat up, bringing her knees up to her chest. This was almost worse than anything the training room had done to her. The pain radiated around to her lower back and down to almost the middle of her thighs. She tried to will herself not to feel it. She took deep breaths, dug her fingernails into her palms, but nothing made the pain dull. In fact, it was getting worse. She dragged herself out of her bed, using the wall to balance herself. As soon as she was standing, she felt something wet run down her leg. Looking down, she saw thick trails of blood painting their way to the floor.

Groaning, she opened the door and stepped out into the hallway. The infirmary was at the far end of the hall; the lights were on and she could hear someone moving around in there. Slowly, she made her way, trailing blood behind her. By the time she made it to the door, she was feeling faint. Yuri, one of the doctors who worked in Department X, looked up, and immediately rushed over to her when he saw the blood.

She woke up on one of the infirmary’s cots. She didn’t know how much time had passed, didn’t even remember making it inside. She was on her side with her right arm sticking straight out from under her, an iv in the crook of her elbow, and when she opened her eyes, she saw the Soldier standing at attention in the doorway. He was staring straight ahead, not even acknowledging her.

She heard footsteps heading toward them and closed her eyes again. Yuri, Dr Chubarov, and the director of the Red Room had stopped behind her.

“You told us that the serum would prevent this, comrade,” the director said to Dr Chubarov. “So, how did this happen?”

“We said that it _may_ prevent pregnancy, Director,” Dr Chubarov replied shakily. “If it did not prevent pregnancy, it would at least prevent the pregnancy from being successful. Comrade Romanova was the first subject to survive the serum. She is our test subject. The miscarriage will help with future subjects.”

She felt like she was going to be sick, but remained still. She had no idea how she hadn’t caught this, since her cycle had been predictable down to the hour. She had spent the last year getting to know her body again, but had been so absorbed in her month-long mission at the Embassy. She hadn’t bothered to take a look at a calendar, and now felt stupid. Cracking an eye, she looked at the Soldier, who in turn flashed his eyes toward her when “miscarriage” was said again. She knew what he was asking her without saying anything. She blinked once, and closed her eyes again immediately when the three men began moving. One set of footsteps made their way to the door.

“You are lucky, Dr Chubarov,” the director said. “If this happens again, you will scrap this test subject and start over. I have no tolerance for mistakes. Get her back in the training room within the week.”

His footsteps retreated down the hall. She opened her eye again and saw the Soldier just as he turned to follow. She wanted to reach out to him, tell him that she didn’t know about the pregnancy. She wondered what was going through his mind, if he thought she was lying to him. She wondered if he would forgive her for something she had known nothing about. Then she stopped. She had been trained better than that. Regardless of her feelings of the man whose name she didn’t even know, she had to stop even if she didn’t want to. She would tell him this next time he came into the training room.

That was the last time Natalia saw him for five years.

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by the Winter Soldier comics, CA:TWS, The Avengers: Heroes of Tomorrow, and the Black Widow comics (Deadly Origin and The Name of the Rose).
> 
> Pauchok (Russian): Little Spider  
> Chernaya Vdova (Russian): Black Widow


End file.
